


Another Beginnings End

by starbuck92



Category: Stargate - All Media Types, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Mild Language, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Jack O'Neill, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbuck92/pseuds/starbuck92
Summary: How she had been captured didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the United States Air Force had ordered him to rescue one Samantha Carter, and that’s exactly what he planned to do.
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter & Jack O'Neill
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at a few Stargate sites when it was first written, but I'm trying to archive all of my work at AO3. Hence, posting it here.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Jack O'Neill ducked into the nearest alleyway, using the cover of darkness to conceal himself in the shadowed corners. From his crouched position, he warily watched the two individuals who had been tailing him the last fifteen minutes, his body taut with tension.

Anxious minutes passed until their footfalls steadily faded away, leaving him listening only to the sound of his rapidly pounding heart. Once he was absolutely certain he was not being followed, he settled against the wall of the closest building, taking a moment to collect his wits.

During the last quarter of an hour, he had feared his cover had been blown and his mission shot to hell, over before it even truly began. Too many people were relying on him to prevail, the assignment too crucial to allow for any screw-ups.

Failure was simply unacceptable.

Sliding down the wall, he seated himself on the ground, digging through his pockets and retrieving a small flashlight and a wallet-sized photograph handed to him two days ago. Jack frowned at the image of the young woman clad in Air Force dress blues, whom he had been charged with finding.

They wouldn't tell him what mission she had been on, and it wasn't his place to ask. In his line of work, information was provided on a need-to-know basis, where details were kept to a minimum to protect sensitive secrets. It was right out of the old spy serials he used to watch as a kid, all cloak-and-daggery, top-secret, hush-hush kind of stuff.

Just the kind of the thing Jack was intimately familiar with as a Special Forces soldier.

The intel in this particular report had been scarce, and he had very few details about the person in the photo. He knew her team was gone, one of them killed when they were shot down over Iraqi airspace, the other two found dead in a warehouse outside Baghdad a couple of nights ago by a pair of Army Rangers.

She was all that remained, held captive in enemy hands.

Jack studied the picture intently, taking in the features of the youthful, smiling face. She looked like a child with those big blue eyes and dimpled cheeks, cute as a button. Hell, she was still a kid, he mused, noting the brightly polished single silver bars pinned on her service uniform. Despite being a lowly first lieutenant, she was important to someone somewhere in the brass and that was what had made the difference this time.

After all, it wasn't every day you had a two-star general personally requesting you do whatever was necessary to bring someone home safe and sound.

For the umpteenth time, he wondered how the hell she had been taken prisoner behind enemy lines at this point in the war, when victory was so close at hand. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Jack crammed the photo and the flashlight back into his pocket.

How she had been captured didn't matter.

All that mattered was that the United States Air Force had ordered him to rescue one Samantha Carter, and that's exactly what he planned to do.

Deciding it was time to get a move on, Jack climbed to his feet, cautiously taking a good look around before he continued deeper into the city. He had arranged to meet a trusted contact, a Saudi informant, who was well versed in the comings and goings of the Iraqi Republican Guard and was rumored to have vital intel on the missing lieutenant. Where and how he had come across the details, Jack wasn't sure, but the man hadn't let him down once yet and Jack wasn't about to start questioning his help now.

He casually entered a small, out-of-the-way café, pausing at the entrance to purchase a local newspaper before he wandered to a tiny table in the back. The place was practically deserted at this time of the night, many of the locals clearing the streets once the sun set and the attacks from the sky began. Although the aerial assaults had become few and far between two days ago as the ground offensive began in earnest, that didn't stop the people here from worrying any less about bombs raining down upon them.

"Anything of interest in the paper this evening, sadiq?"

The soft voice contrasted deeply with the heavy Middle Eastern accent. Jack slid the newspaper to the man who had slipped into the chair across from him, leaning back in his own chair.

"Ah, you know, just the usual. I was actually looking for some real estate. Know of any places nearby?"

The Saudi informant browsed through the pages of the newspaper, shaking his head.

"Alas, no, I cannot advise you on local properties."

He set the paper down on the table between them, taking a moment to sip his tea.

"I can, however, tell you that your search may be more worthwhile in the district of Al-Karkh on the western bank of the Tigris. I suspect you will find good fortune there, sadiq."

Jack reached for the newspaper, tucking it under his arm and inclining his head in gratitude as he rose from the table and exited the café. Only his training and years of experience stopped him from immediately tearing opening the newspaper outside the building. It wasn't until he was safely tucked inside an abandoned building ten blocks away that he laid the paper out on a rickety table, grinning.

Jackpot.

His informant had cleverly slipped a wealth of information between the pages of the newspaper: a highly detailed layout of a small warehouse in the Al-Karkh district, complete with guard counts, positions, and shift change times. There was also a satellite photo of the area, the building circled in red marker. He spent as much time as he dared studying the intel, committing to memory every detail, formulating plans and backups in case anything went wrong.

An hour later, Jack was staking out the warehouse, hardly daring to believe his luck. Three guards near the entrance, another on the roof. Security was indeed at a minimum. He idly wondered if the Iraqi military assumed no one would be stupid enough to attempt a rescue this deep into enemy territory even if a rescue party knew where Lieutenant Carter was being held.

Clearly, they had no idea how stupid Jack O'Neill could really be.

He edged closer, using the adjacent building for cover and keeping his eyes open for any surprises. Jack quickly located the side entrance his informant had pointed out on the layout, boarded up with rotting plywood and easily accessible. He was inside the building within a matter of minutes, swiftly searching for the missing officer.

The first and second rooms he explored yielded no trace of her. The third, however, no more than a closet, was occupied.

A sliver of moonlight breached the pitch black interior of the room, just enough light to reveal the silhouette of a slender figure lying on its side in the furthest corner. Jack stopped in his tracks as he crossed the threshold, his stomach tightening in revulsion as the odor of human waste and bile nearly made him sick. Steeling himself for the worst, Jack crept closer, fishing the small, red-lensed flashlight out of his pocket, his thoughts almost deafening in his head.

_Please don't let her be dead._

_Please don't let her be dead._

_PLEASE DON'T LET HER BE DEAD._

Summoning all of his control, Jack shone the light on the figure, the beam catching the once brilliant mop of blonde hair on her head, now dull and dirty and flecked with granules of sand. She was blindfolded and gagged, her hands bound behind her back, a filthy, ragged blanket beneath her the only small comfort she had been allowed.

Jack squatted beside her and reached out, tentatively touching her arm, and all of a sudden the seemingly defeated figure jolted to life. The young woman twisted and kicked out, her heavy combat boot catching his bad knee. He fell forward with a groan, clutching his leg in pain, growling, "Dammit, Lieutenant Carter! What the hell was that for?"

Bracing herself for another kick, Carter stiffened upon hearing the distinct American accent, slowly lowering her leg back to the floor.

Figuring it was safe to approach without the risk of his knees - let alone any other sensitive part of his body - being assaulted by those boots, Jack carefully slid the blindfold off her face.

Carter blinked, her sight adjusting to what little light was present in the room, and as her eyes focused on the man crouching above her, he saw a flash of suspicion, her flight or fight instincts charging to the forefront once again. Jack immediately raised his hands, pulling out his dog tags, the metal glinting in the small amount of faint moonlight that penetrated the room.

Dressed in traditional Bedouin clothes, he probably wasn't what she expected her rescuer to look like. He grinned wryly.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. I know I must smell like a yak, but do you think I'd have made it this far if I smelled like regulation issued soap and shampoo? Can't exactly find those things out in the desert, you know."

He could have sworn he saw her eyes crinkle in amusement at his comment, her body relaxing somewhat. Taking that as a good sign, Jack removed the gag, frowning as he caught sight of a dark, wet stain on the fabric.

Blood.

Gritting his teeth, Jack tossed the rag aside. There wasn't anything he could do about that right now. Not until he got her the hell out of here.

Carter moaned quietly as he helped her sit up, remaining motionless as he freed her hands and explained the situation to her.

"There aren't many guards hanging around, but we're still going to have to move fast. We don't want them finding out you've decided on an early checkout from this place."

"The accommodations really suck, sir. I wouldn't recommend staying here," Carter murmured with a shake of her head.

Jack bit back a bark of laughter, pleasantly surprised by her sharp sense of humor and grateful it was intact. Leaning over, he slowly helped her climb to her feet, quickly slipping his arm around her waist as she wobbled precariously, her fingers scrabbling for any support as she blamed her unsteadiness on a spell of vertigo, claiming she would be fine. Jack wasn't fooled. He suspected far more serious injuries, but now wasn't the time to stand around and argue with her.

Making sure she was more or less steady on her feet, Jack picked up his satchel, digging through it for a dark thawb, very similar to the one he was wearing. He pulled the garment over her head, her torn flight suit now effectively out of sight beneath the ankle-length tunic.

"One more thing," Jack muttered as he retrieved a black head cloth from the satchel, fitting it on Carter's head, concealing her blonde locks. Once it was in place, he carefully examined her attire with his flashlight, making certain she wouldn't draw any unwanted attention on the streets of the city.

"Well, I don't think you'll be making the cover of any fashion magazines in these clothes, Carter, but in this case, I'd consider that a good thing," he quipped, shining the light near her face.

She looked up at him, giving him his first real glimpse of those eyes he had only seen in a photograph previously. Her face was dreadfully pale beneath the grime and dark bruises, a mere ghost of the young woman whose features he'd memorized when he had first been handed the mission file.

But those eyes hadn't changed one bit.

Large and brilliantly blue, they were like a beacon to him, brimming with life and intelligence beneath the pain. The crash and her subsequent captivity may have broken skin and bones, but they hadn't broken her spirit, and Jack was going to make damn sure that never happened as long as she was with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Their escape met no resistance as the pair effortlessly retraced the route Jack had utilized to gain access into the building. It was far too easy, Jack thought, but for once in his life, his luck held, and soon enough they made their way across the river, putting some distance between them and the warehouse.

Even as he helped Carter along, Jack didn't let his guard down for one second. Previous experience had taught him that overconfidence could quickly kill a successful mission and, sparing a glance down at the woman by his side, he was determined to see this one through to the end, unwilling to fail.

At last they arrived at their destination, a small, vacant two-story house in another district of Baghdad, a place Jack had scouted thoroughly earlier in the day. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he helped Carter inside, conducting a speedy reconnaissance of the first floor before they ambled their way up to the second. The second floor was just as empty as the one beneath, and the two officers shuffled into one of the larger rooms, Jack settling Carter on the floor against the wall, facing the entryway.

He removed the satchel and placed the flashlight on the ground, kneeling by her side. Gently, he took her hand and slid his sidearm into her palm, closing her fingers securely around the grip of the weapon. She looked down at the gun for a moment before raising her eyes to meet his, and a shared look of mutual understanding passing between them as she wordlessly acknowledged what he was asking her to do.

Trusting Carter to watch his six, Jack moved a few feet away, searching for something along the wall. He reached beneath his thawb and dug through the pockets of the BDU pants he wore underneath the long shirt, retrieving his Swiss army knife. Using the tip of the blade, he carefully pried a loose panel from the wall and pulled out some of the supplies he had hidden at dawn. Had that really only been this morning, he wondered?

"They're gone, aren't they?"

The soft, slightly raspy voice stopped Jack from what he was doing for a moment, bowing his head, not quite sure how to break the news to her. But his silence was all Carter needed to figure things out on her own. As he lit a couple of candles, she quietly continued talking, recounting the horror of the last few days.

"Our fighters were shot down within two hundred yards of each other. It happened so fast, I still don't really understand what went wrong, and we didn't even have enough time to eject. I have no idea how we survived given that we were transonic when we were hit and the relative velocity and rapid descent into the terrain..."

The sentence faded as she shook her head, either unable to remember what had happened or realizing she was starting to ramble about the physics of the crash. Closing her eyes briefly, she sucked in a deep breath, exhaled softly, and plunged ahead.

"Lieutenant Vega and I managed to escape the wreckage of our plane. We somehow made it on foot to Major Branson and Lieutenant Singleton. The major--"

There was yet another pause as she bit down on her lower lip to keep it from trembling, visibly struggling to maintain her composure.

Jack gave her shoulder a squeeze, silently supporting her, and her inner strength emerged once more, fighting through the anguish that had threatened to bubble to the surface.

"We were caught shortly after we reunited. I was separated from Vega and Singleton and taken to the warehouse where they tried questioning me."

Jack arched an eyebrow, handing her a canteen. "I assume you told them to fuck off?"

The corners of Carter's mouth briefly rose in a weak smile as she nodded. "Yes, sir. Repeatedly. They ended up throwing me in that room after they realized I wasn't going to talk."

He couldn't help but feel a stirring of pride at the young lieutenant's resiliency, reminded of his own capture and long-term captivity in this godforsaken country some time ago. He had survived that trip to hell and the arduous journey back, and he firmly believed her own courage would see her through her own ordeal.

Carter suddenly tilted her head to one side, a curious glint in her eyes. "I just realized I don't even know your name, sir."

"It's Jack."

"Jack," she parroted, eyebrows lifting slightly as if she expected him to reveal the rest of his name and rank, but before she could say another word, the canteen tumbled from her hand and she snapped up the sidearm, aiming for a point over Jack's shoulder.

Only a fraction of a second behind her, Jack twisted around, prepared to meet the threat when he caught a glimpse of the figure standing in the entryway. His hand shot out for Carter's wrist, lowering her arm before she could fire the weapon.

"Carter, it's okay! He's a friendly!"

Gradually, her breathing slowed back to normal as the adrenaline rush subsided, and he gave her shoulder another reassuring squeeze before turning to the new arrival. It was Jack's Saudi informant, carrying a parcel, looking cautiously from Jack to Carter and back again.

He tipped his head forward in a small bow of apology. "Forgive me, sadiq. I did not intend to alarm you."

Jack waved off the apology, taking the parcel from the man. "Any news?"

"I received a communiqué from your U.S. forces. Rescue is on the way. All of the pertinent information is in the parcel."

That earned the informant a rare, genuine smile from Jack, who bowed his head forward in appreciation and shook the man's hand. "Thank you, my friend. I owe you one."

The Saudi raised his hand, shaking his head, exchanging the smile. "For what you did for me and my family, think nothing of it, sadiq. I will take my leave." He threw one more glance at the young woman sitting by the wall before returning his attention to Jack. "I pray you will continue to be blessed with good fortune. Farewell."

The informant exited as silently as he had arrived, and soon Jack and Carter were alone once more.

Walking back to her side, he settled himself down and tore open the parcel, finding the promised information as well as a wrapped loaf of warm bread. His stomach suddenly and quite loudly informed him that it had been some time since his last meal. Jack broke the loaf in two and offered half to Carter, who immediately blanched at the sight of the food and mumbled that she wasn't hungry. He sighed, doing his best to remain patient with her.

"Look, Carter, it isn't exactly fine dining, but I need you to keep your strength up if we're going to get the hell out of this place in one piece. Don't force me to make it an order."

Those blue eyes flashed in response, and for a moment it appeared as if she was going to argue with him, but he leveled his gaze with her own, engaging in a silent battle of wills until she reluctantly took the bread and tore off a piece, eating silently.

Jack resisted the urge to comment on her stubbornness, taking the small victory and not pressing her further as long as she ate. He diverted his attention back to the communiqué and perused the documents as he ate his own meal.

A Special Forces unit was being dispatched by chopper from Prince Sultan Air Base, southeast of Riyadh, scheduled to pick him and Carter up at a park in northeastern Baghdad at dawn. They had a few hours to rest before they needed to head out to the rendezvous point. Deciding to make the best of that time, Jack finished his bread and reached for the first aid kit.

He worked swiftly and silently as he examined Carter for injuries, finding various cuts and bruises all over the place, uncertain whether they were from the crash or souvenirs from her captors. Her wrists were rubbed raw from being bound, the right an angry shade of red from where the rope had bit into the skin, the left swollen and mottled black and blue, more than likely broken. After utilizing some antibiotic cream on the cuts, he fashioned a makeshift splint and sling from the equipment in the military-grade first aid kit before moving onto the ribs, bracing himself for the worst.

Being as gentle as possible, Jack lightly probed her sides, first the right, then the left, jerking back when she tensed and inhaled a sharp, strangled gasp, slapping his hands away. His jaw clenched as he remembered the blood on the gag.

Shit. Definitely broken.

Jack closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, tamping down on his frustration and a sheer sense of helplessness. In enemy territory with nothing more than the first aid kit, there wasn't anything more he could do for her except give her a couple of T3 tablets to help with the pain and keep her as still as possible to avoid injuring her further until their rescue arrived.

They faced six hours until dawn, but to Jack, it felt like waiting for six lifetimes to pass.

A muffled cough pulled him from his negative thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find Carter watching him.

He met her steady gaze, the pain and exhaustion obvious, but he found something else he did not expect present in those eyes, unmistakable and unconditional: trust. There was no doubt in Jack's mind that she understood the dire situation they found themselves in, yet everything in her expression told him she believed he would not let anything happen to her.

That he would not let her down.

His callused fingertips fluttered over her face as he wiped some of the dirt and grime off her pale skin, and his heart gave an involuntary quiver as she leaned into the touch. He withstood the urge to pull his hand back, playing with a metaphorical fire that was too hot for him to handle.

For crying out loud, he was a married man!

But for some reason he couldn't define, couldn't really make heads nor tails of, he inexplicably felt himself drawn to the young officer. She was tough as nails and braver than most of the guys he had served with, this Samantha Carter, and in the few short hours since they had met, she had unknowingly found herself a comfortable spot in the corner of his heart and set up camp.

Heaven help her if she found a fishing pole and made the spot permanent.

He handed her the medication and then shifted closer, resting against the wall next to Carter, his voice soft. "We have a few hours until the chopper arrives. Get some sleep, Lieutenant."

This time she did not even attempt to argue, taking the pills without question and finally surrendering to exhaustion. Carter gingerly nestled closer to her rescuer, lightly laying her head against his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut. Only a few minutes passed before he heard her breathing even out, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her even closer.

It was more for her benefit than his, having her so close, he thought.

Then again, Jack had a remarkable ability to lie to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Three hours later, Jack could have sworn he was baking in the middle of the desert. Hell, he would have happily taken a scorching if it meant the heat he was feeling came from a ruthless sun high above rather than radiating from the body of the young woman sleeping at his side. As the hours had passed, Carter's fever had climbed, and with it, so had Jack's concern.

The worry escalated even further as a violent fit of coughing jerked the lieutenant awake. She covered her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, shaking with the effort. As she pulled her hand away from her mouth, Jack saw her eyes widen in fear, her expression anguished as she took in the sight of her palm, wet and sticky with blood.

Son of a bitch! He couldn't allow her to lose hope now!

Grabbing a small washcloth from his satchel and some water from the canteen, Jack gently wiped the blood from her mouth and hand, all the while murmuring assurances that everything was going to be okay. He wasn't entirely sure he was getting through to her until he felt her fingers curl around his, faintly squeezing in response. Exhaling in relief, he threaded his fingers through her hair, coaxing her back into slumber.

Once certain she was fast asleep again, he moved away, pounding the wall with both fists, leaning forward until his forehead touched the cool surface, cursing his powerlessness. The rest of the night continued in agony, Carter frequently waking in the grip of coughing that progressively worsened. By the time the sky outside finally began its shift to a pre-dawn hue, Jack was ready to drop to his knees and send a prayer of thanks to whatever god may be listening that Carter had made it through the night.

It was finally time to go.

He was reluctant to move her, but there was no other choice. Carrying her to the rendezvous was out of the question; it would draw the wrong kind of attention. Walking was the only option. Packing up their things, he carefully helped her climb to her feet, her face draining of what little color it had left.

The earlier spark of pride Jack had felt for her flourished into a fierce admiration of her courage as she slowly put one foot in front of the other, never once complaining as they abandoned their safe haven and ventured into the outside world.

The streets were relatively empty at this hour, many of the citizens engaged in morning prayer. The two officers took advantage of the barren roads and made their way as quickly as they could, Jack's heart beating faster as Carter's breathing grew steadily more ragged.

She was not looking good at all, he thought, his arm tightening around her waist as he glanced at her, his stomach churning as he saw her battling to remain conscious. Every step was a struggle, but they continued to press forward, and at last, the entrance to the park came into view, Jack murmuring, "Almost there, Carter. Almost there."

It was then that their luck decided to run out.

Throwing a look over his shoulder, Jack cursed under his breath as he saw a small group of Republican Guard round the corner behind them. One of the soldiers took notice of the unsteady pair hurrying toward the park, pointing them out to his comrades, their suspicion mounting as they began following and calling out.

Her breath hitching in her throat, Carter turned to see how closely behind the soldiers were trailing. One of the Iraqis pointed at the young woman in recognition, and in that brief instant, the square erupted in shouting and gunfire.

The two officers raced toward the park, throwing themselves behind the brick wall that marked the entrance, Carter crying out as she hit the ground hard. Jack pushed her down, shielding her as best he could as dust and debris clouded the air as bullets pierced the wall.

Jack's head whipped around as he heard the familiar whine of rotor blades in the distance, and hope soared through his heart as he spotted the rescue chopper, maybe a mile or two out from their position. All they needed was to hang on for just a few more minutes.

Grabbing his gun from beneath his thawb, Jack returned fire, using the wall for cover as he discharged several shots in succession. The soldiers scattered to find defensible positions of their own, gunfire now echoing on both sides of the street. Sooner than he would have liked, Jack ducked back against the wall, hands working fast to replace his empty clip with a fresh one, looking up to check on Carter.

He blinked in surprise as Carter suddenly retrieved the handgun he had given her the previous night and took up the spot he had just vacated, firing back at the Iraqis. Once again, she had dug into the reserves of her strength, and his eyes widened in wonder as he saw one of her shots hit its mark, bringing down a man in a shower of red.

"Nice!" he murmured beneath his breath, giving her an appreciative smile.

All of a sudden, additional firepower began raining down upon the Republic Guard troops as the helicopter finally touched down twenty yards away, the Special Forces team within the aircraft providing cover for the pair of officers. The thundering sound of the rotors drowned out the sound of the firefight and the air was thick with dust, but Jack still could make out the silhouette of one of the soldiers motioning for them to make a run for it.

Slipping an arm around Carter's waist, Jack tried to help her get her feet beneath her, but the lieutenant's strength had finally abandoned her, the shock and trauma of her injuries betraying her iron will. Making a snap decision, he tossed his handgun aside and slid his other arm beneath her knees, scooping her up and sprinting toward the chopper.

Bullets whizzed by his head, clipping the sides of the chopper, and small explosions of dirt and rocks erupted along his path as more bullets almost hit their intended target. Jack barely saw any of it. His vision had narrowed to the solider waving him on, his hand extended and reaching for Jack.

He had covered half the distance to the awaiting helicopter when pain abruptly exploded in his shoulder and back, and he staggered at the numb realization that he'd been shot. His arms threatened to give out as he wobbled, but he’d be damned if he was going to drop Carter. He was going to complete his mission even if it killed him.

Holding onto her for dear life, Jack mustered the determination to take five more steps, launching himself inside the belly of the chopper, landing on his injured back with Carter tucked against his chest. He bit back a massive amount of curses as he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, as hands helped steady him.

It wasn't until he heard the reassuring thump-thump-thump of the rotor blades overhead and felt the familiar sensation of flying that he finally forced his eyes open, his vision partially obscured by wisps of blonde hair against his face. Pushing her hair away from her forehead, Jack idly wondered when the hell Carter had lost her head cloth, when his hand suddenly stopped, fingers tangled in her hair.

Those blue eyes were staring at him intently.

A multitude of emotions passed between them in a heartbeat as they stared at each other, gratitude and relief and something else that Jack could not quite place. Rather than dwell on it, he relinquished her to the gentle hands that were pulling her away from him and onto a gurney, giving her a rare, gentle smile.

The corners of her mouth lifted in response and her eyes drifted shut as the medics around her began tending to her injuries, her breathing evening out in a peaceful, pain-free slumber as one of the doctors gave her a dose of morphine.

Knowing Carter was finally safe and on the way home, Jack closed his own eyes as a couple of medics checked out his own injuries, letting oblivion claim him.

***

Epilogue

Landstuhl Regional Medical Center  
Germany  
One week later

Jack O'Neill hopped off the examination table and adjusted his sling over his BDUs, grateful his latest check-up had been a smooth one and extremely happy he didn't have to deal with much of the poking and prodding he despised. The doctor had reported that the gunshot wound he had taken in the back of his shoulder was healing nicely and he was cleared to fly back to the States.

Back home.

There was, however, one last thing he needed to do first.

Shuffling his way through the hallways of the hospital, he found himself pausing in front of another room, leaning forward slightly to peer in through the window of the door. Two people occupied the room, one an older man wearing BDUs and a couple of stars pinned on his shirt collar, the other a young woman, dressed in a hospital gown and robe, her left arm in a sling, resting in her bed and talking rather animatedly with the man.

Jack could only stare as he watched Samantha Carter, marveling at how vibrant and full of life she appeared. Gone were the deathly pale skin, the dirt and grime, and the pained expressions she had tried to hide from him. Instead, she once more resembled the woman in the tattered photograph he still carried in his pocket, beautiful with her deep blue eyes and dimpled smile.

Her entire face lit up at a comment from the man, whom Jack assumed must have been her General father, the sound of her giggles penetrating through the door. He reached up, fingers suspended mere centimeters from the glass pane of the window, as if he could reach through it to touch her face one more time.

Taking a deep breath, Jack stopped, his hand dropping and digging into his pocket, retrieving the photo he had been given just over a week ago. His eyes looked through the glass one last time at First Lieutenant Samantha Carter, alive and whole, who was grinning broadly at her father, then turned away to walk down the hall.

A doctor found the photograph on the counter of the nurses' station an hour later.


End file.
